81

Eighty One

"Freya," Rafe murmured as he approached me, his eyes roaming over me as if checking for himself that I was truly fine. "This is Dr. Larsen. She's going to take a look at your injuries."

I submitted meekly as the doctor examined the wound on my head, cleaned it with gentle fingers. She asked me questions - did I remember what happened, was I experiencing any dizziness or nausea? I answered as best I could, my gaze straying again and again to Rafe hovering nearby, his brow furrowed with concern.

Dr. Larsen applied a clean bandage, then pressed a bottle of pills into my hand. "For the pain," she explained. "Take one every six hours as needed. And rest. No strenuous activity for at least a week."

"Thank you," I said, mustering a grateful smile.

After a few more instructions, the doctor gathered up her bag and departed, leaving a charged silence in her wake. Rafe and I stared at each other from opposite sides of the room, the air heavy with all the words we hadn't said. All the